


In Which Dean Hates Caves and the Winchesters Meet a Dog

by MeriKG



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 03:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20036980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeriKG/pseuds/MeriKG
Summary: It's a good, old fashioned Hunt!  This time our boys are taking on a super powerful order of particularly smarmy wizard/druid/Dresden types.  Under a mountain.  Because Dean is all about the spelunking.  But the guys may be in over their heads on this one.  Also, a giant Celtic wolf.  (This tale is Celtic mythology based).Takes place circa season five.  No mention of the world ending because this is a standalone Hunt story, though it's more or less cannon.  No Castiel, which makes me sad, but there'd be no challenge with an easy angelic rescue. He's busy looking for Dad, anyway.*There is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference to distant past non-con, but it's very vague and not related to our boys.





	In Which Dean Hates Caves and the Winchesters Meet a Dog

**Author's Note:**

> I have no beta so any and all typos and mistakes are on me. Apologies. I was fixing typos and got frustrated, so I deleted and reposted the whole story. Hasn't changed, just fewer grammatical issues.

Sam’s initial impulse when waking from a forced state of unconsciousness was always the same; sit up fast, take a deep gulp of air and call out for his older brother. He’d been working on that; the instinctive reaction didn’t really help matters, only serving to let any enemies who may not actually be able to hear increased heart sounds know he was awake. He’d been down that road more than enough times. 

“Sammy?”

Hearing the gruff voice that never failed to reassure, even when it was chewing him out, or worse, trying to make a joke, Sam stopped maintaining the illusion of unconsciousness and sat carefully upright.

“I’m here, Dean,” he muttered, casting his gaze blindly through the pitch darkness of the chamber.

“You okay?” Dean called softly.

‘Okay’ was a relevant term. His whole body ached from whatever godforsaken spell the bastard offshot clan of mages they’d been hunting had used to knock him out. But everything seemed more or less intact. 

“I’m fine. How about you?”

“I feel like I’ve been bitten in the balls by a moray eel. Other than that, I’m peachy.” 

Well, that was unnecessarily graphic, Sam decided. Also, strangely accurate. He cast his hands around in the darkness, finding nothing but air within arms reach. The cold stone beneath him, coupled with the familiar dry, earthy smell suggested he was underground, but he wasn’t getting any of the moldy wetness he’d come to associate with basements. 

Not a huge surprise, really. The national park they’d been trekking through was thick with caves, and he and Dean had considered the uncomfortable possibility that they’d end up doing some splunking this hunt.

“Any idea where we are?” Sam asked, hoping his brother had any more insight than he.

“Last thing I remember, those Harry Dresden wannabes we were tracking nailed me with their special brand of joy juice and then we woke up here. Wherever the hell ‘here’ is.” 

“I think we’re underground,” Sam commented. He stood, carefully rising to his feet and stretching out into the darkness. His fingers grazed something solid, and with a little investigation he ascertained that the walls and ceiling were rough rock. 

Dean groaned. “Just tell me we aren’t in one of those damn caves,” he growled. Sam heard the telltale sound of his brother rising to his feet. 

“Okay. I won’t tell you.”

“I hate caves,” Dean muttered. “Why can’t these ass hats live in fancy hi-rise condos like any respectable villain?”

Sam tracked the sounds of his brother’s movements as the other hunter carefully paced the length of the walls within the chamber. 

“How long do you think we were out for?” Sam asked. The sound of his brother’s movement suggested the chamber they were in was small, maybe 12X12. 

A click, followed by the illumination of a flashlight lit Dean’s face in shadow. He was looking down at his watch. 

“By my watch, a day or so. So, long enough we could be just about anywhere in this whole damn mountain.” And that was only if the wizard’s hadn’t used magic. 

“Great. Any chance you have a signal?’

The blue of a phone’s cover screen flashed. “No way. Completely roaming. You?”

“The phone’s cracked,” Sam admitted, sliding the broken flip phone back into a pocket. “I have nothing.”

It had taken two days walking through the deep woods to find the entrance to the mage's lair. An honest to God lair. Dean had been particularly vocal in his disdain. 

The small but poweful mage clan they’d been tracking acquired their power from a bastardization of witch magic combined with what appeared to be ancient Druid rituals, giving the small band of magic users instant access to a giant repository of portable magical energy. The might of nature’s power in convenient amulet form; they’d even bound it in amber necklaces for easy carrying. 

Hiking miles through darkened caves hadn’t been part of the brother’s game plan. Of course, neither had been getting caught and knocked unconscious either. 

“Well, given how stagnant the air is, were either in a closed room, or pretty deep underground,” Sam commented absently, casting the light from his own flashlight across the walls and ceiling. 

A quick scan confirmed that while they’d been dumped in some form of rock hewn chamber, they weren’t locked in. Sam made out several pockets of darkness that didn’t match the rest of the shadowed walls.

“Would it be too much for them to leave the damn lights on?” Dean asked. “Remind me to place a scathing review on their Yelp page as soon as we get out of here.”

Sam walked towards one of the potential exits and carefully extended a hand, batting carefully at the darkness. He hit open air. Jackpot.

“This looks like a way out.”

Dean glanced at the doorway. “Why do I feel like we’re leaving the frying pan for the fire?” 

“Because we are trapped in a bunch of caves under a mountain, having been jumped by an ancient clan of immoral, power-hungry, wizard-druid hybrids?” Sam asked.

Dean snorted.

“The topographic maps I was looking at suggested these caverns could go down for miles,” Sam plowed on. “Not to mention whatever else the mage druids have added over the centuries. These tunnels are a labyrinth. We could walk around for days without getting anywhere near the right way out.”

“That’s the idea Sammy, stay positive.”

“I’m just being honest, Dean. Unless you have a plan I’m unaware of.”

“Sure I do. Find one of those bastards and cut bloody strips out of him until he spills the way out.” Having said that, Dean turned and began down the dark hall. 

Sam sighed, following his brother down the tunnel. They came to a fork, the tunnels mark with foreign symbols on the upper left side at roughly shoulder level.

Sam shown the small beam of his flashlight at the symbols. 

“Well?” Dean asked impatiently.

“Well, they’re runes. Looks kind of like they get their root form in Elder Folthark, but they’ve been altered.”

“That’s wonderful. What does it mean?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Sam said. 

Dean cussed under his breath and took off down the left path. At the next fork he took the left tunnel again. 

“Take another left and we’ll be headed back towards where we started,” Sam warned.

Dean spared him glare. “Really, genius? Work that out on your own?”

“So what are we doing, exactly?” Sam asked, exacerbated.

“Don’t know about you, but I’m following the fresh blood trail.” Dean cast the narrow beam along a low point of the wall, where a relatively fresh looking streak of red marred the rough walls. “Whatever they were hauling, it wasn’t long ago. Blood’s barely dried.”

Sam glanced down where Dean’s light illuminated blood sporadic lines of blood a foot or so above ground level. Sam winced. “Let’s hope it wasn’t Trey or Elisa.” 

The young couple were the latest in string of odd disappearances for the tourist-rich little Utah town. The authorities blamed the disappearances on skiing accidents, but there were enough oddities in the missing person cases to trigger Bobby’s radar, and he’d put out a call for them to investigate. As was usually the case, he was right.

“Dean. Do you hear that?”

The sounds were soft, and distant. If the caves hadn’t been utterly silent to the point of eerie, Sam would never have caught it. Dean paused, head cocked as he focused. A short nod and he was striding along the path, taking the next right tunnel towards the faintest murmur of distant voices. 

Dean flicked off his light, gesturing for Sam to stow his and take rear guard. Finding their path was no longer an issue; whatever they were approaching was lit brightly enough for the lighting to reach the outer paths.

The tunnel opened to a wide, well lit cavern, the floor a good 30 feet below them. They slid to their stomachs and crawled to the edge to look down into the cavern below. Sam counted 5 mage-druid-witches in attendance, to all intents and purposes relaxed and chatting. Hell, a few of them were even drinking beers. 

A quick glance at the overall situation explained the tea-partyesque atmosphere. An immense altar stood at center mass in the room, the bloody, disemboweled corpses of Trey and Elisa staring sightlessly towards the ceiling. Bloody chains at their wrists and ankles, piles of discarded organs piled in filthy bowls, the whole scene painted a fairly grisly tale of their deaths. 

Dean’s eyes narrowed at the scene below, his dark glare promising bloody retribution. Sam put a cautionary hand on his brother to anchor him, keeping him from doing something rash. 

“They’re dead, Sam. All of those son’s of bitches down there. They just don’t know it yet.” 

“Dean…”

“Elisa was pregnant, Sam. Three months.” 

“Naturally,” a jaunty voice said from somewhere above and behind them. All the women we take are. More bang for your buck, you see,” the smooth voice added. 

“Now, personally, I’d like to kill you both quick and be done with this whole thing. Your nosing around forced us to rush the ceremony, and cost us the final pair of offerings we’d tagged. Sadly, that decision is not up to me. The boss thinks you two may be good for something yet. He may well be right. For entertainment value if nothing else.” 

Sam and Dean turned to see one of the mages standing behind them, his once white robe heavily tye-died with blood splatter. He grinned. “Cheers.” 

The mage held up a glowing amber stone, and something heavy slammed both of them to the ground, the world fading to darkness.

\----------------------  
Dean groaned, rolling from his stomach to his back. He was back in darkness, and his head was pounding. He dragged himself upright, rubbing at his temple to soothe the ache. They got him again. Damn wizards.

“Sam? Sammy?” 

No answer. Dean growled to himself; this was getting repetitive and he was over it. He fumbled in one of the pockets of his coat, digging up his small back-up flashlight. He slid the beam around yet another identical rocky chamber, the glow finally settling on the enormous form of his prone brother a few feet away.

“Sam!” He crab crawled over and shook Sam, shoulder, rolling him to his back. 

“Sammy! Wake up!” He ran his light over Sam’s body, unable to identify any overt signs of damage. Sam’s chest rose and fell in a steady, even breaths.

“Thank god. Any time, you want to wake up, little brother, would be awesome. We need to get the hell out of here and I can’t carry your giant ass.”

Dean rose to his feet, taking a thorough assessment of his surroundings. Nothing. He began padding his pockets. Most of his weapons were in place, including the demon knife, and he still had his gun. Why did he still have his gun? He paused; it didn’t feel right against his body, like the positioning was off. That made no sense; he always stowed his weapons the exact same way. Unless someone had been tampering. A glance in the chamber proved him right; one bullet left. 

“Okay. That’s not ominous at all,” he muttered, feeling along the cave wall for possible ways out.

A groan from across the room signaled Sam’s slow return to the conscious world.

“Dean?”

“I’m here. You okay?”

Sam groaned. “I have the headache from hell. Otherwise I think I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I had that too when I woke up. Think it was from the spell or whatever that douchebag used on us. It faded pretty quickly once I was up and moving.”

“Small favors,” Sam said, a wince in his tone. He slowly came to his feet, patting at his clothes. 

“Anything missing?”

“I don’t think so. They left me fully armed. Hubris or just lazy?”

“Maybe neither. The guy that slammed us mentioned entertainment. Check your clip.”

Sam did. “One bullet. Why one bullet?”

“Maybe to put ourselves out of our misery if we can’t get out of here?” Dean swore, “I bet those sons of bitches are even taking bets.” 

“Possible. Let’s disappoint them.”

“Right. I only found one exit so far.” Dean turned his flashlight towards the open frame along the wall. “Ready to roll?” Sam nodded, realizing belatedly that Dean wouldn’t be able to see the gesture in the dark. He flicked on his flashlight, only for it to flicker a few times and go dim.

“Nice. When was the last time you changed the batteries on that thing, MacGyver?” Dean asked, swinging the light onto his brother’s face. Sam glared at his brother, not deigning to answer.

Dean chuckled. “Let’s go.”

With only the one small flashlight between them, they were reduced to following the little beam of light illuminating the ground a few feet in front of them. Dean periodically cast it along the walls, but after they’d both tripped on the rough floor a few times he primarily focused on ground level.

They’d been moving for what felt like an hour or two, it was hard for Sam to keep track in the darkness, when Dean made a full stop. Well trained to follow his brother’s lead, Sam froze as well, casting his eyes alertly around him. He’d adjusted to the darkness, but the intense little beam didn’t give him much to see by. He watched for signs of motion, listening intently, trying to discern what had set off his brother’s spidey sense. 

Then he heard it, a faint, inhuman rumbling noise. It sounded like a growl. He looked over at his brother. Dean was staring intently at the far wall, his gaze tilted slightly down. Golden amber eyes regarded them through the darkness, so bright they nearly glowed. The eyes were almond shaped, angled in such a way that they couldn’t possibly be human.

Dean slowly brought his light up, highlighting the shadowed form of a massive canid. The animal was crouched on a ledge just below eye level. Sam sucked in a breath. Jesus. If the creature’s body was proportionate to its head, the beast had to be at least lion sized. Maybe bigger. 

“Good doggy,” Dean murmured. “Nice puppy.” Then animal raised its upper lip, revealing rows of wicked teeth that gleamed wetly in the sharp beam of the flashlight, and growled, low and deep. Sam felt the vibrations against his skin.

“I don’t think it likes that,” Sam murmured to his brother, body tense as he prepared for action. He and Dean had one bullet each. Unless they got a perfect head shot, that wouldn’t be nearly enough to drop the beast.

“What the hell is that thing?” Dean hissed.

“A sort-of wolf?” Sam responded, as lost as Dean on this one. He’d never come upon anything like it any lore he’d ever read. It wasn’t really a wolf, exactly. Crouched as it was, Sam couldn’t really see much of its form, but the way it's legs were tucked didn’t seem quite right, more catlike for that the animal was definitely wolf-shaped. 

“Don’t suppose you have a milkbone on you?” Dean asked, eyes glued on the animal.

“Fresh out,” Sam muttered. 

The wolf-thing made a chuffing sound at them, and fluidly hopped down from the ledge. The brothers took several cautious steps back, eyes glued to the monster. Sam realized he’d been wrong in his initial assessment; the thing was much larger than a lion. At full height, the creature’s shoulder blades were even with Sam’s nipple line. It was lean and long, with a thick, fluffy tail. It was too dark to identify a colour, but Sam was guessing some shade of grey. 

“Hell hound?” Sam had never actually seen one, the things being invisible and all, but he suspected they could look like this. Maybe Dean had gotten a look at one during his tour in Hell. 

“No way,” Dean replied definitively. “You feel hellhounds as much as see them when they’re attuned you. This thing doesn’t have that soul-freezing sensation. It’s a totally different critter.”

“Good boy, Lassie,” Dean murmured to the beast. “Shoo. Go find Timmy in the well, huh?”

The wolf-like thing made that chuffing noise again. Sam realized something about that noise. And then he noticed something else.

“Dean. Look at its neck.” The wolf wore a heavy collar, the device threaded with faintly glowing stones. “Does that look like, I don’t know, some kind of magic-based shock collar to you?”

“So, what then? This thing is one of the mage guy’s pets?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know, maybe? I think they’re controlling it, anyway.”

Making a decision, Sam took a cautious step forward, arms out, palms up. “Good boy. Easy. Make you a deal, huh? We’ll get that thing off your neck if you show us the way out of here.”

“Sam, What are you doing?” Dean hissed. “I know it may be as big as a horse, but it’s not exactly Mr. Ed.” 

“I think it may be intelligent.”

“What? Why do you say that?”

Sam reached forward cautiously. “Easy, boy. Want a nice ear scritch?” He touched the animal’s head, slowly running his fingers along its skull to its massive triangular ears. He crooked his fingers, digging his nails into leatherlike pelt. 

The animal rumbled a deep, purring roll, eyes closing to half-mast. It absently pushed its mammoth head against Sam’s chest, knocking him back a step. Sam took a firmer stance and reached with his other hand to attend the other ear as well. 

“See? He knows what I’m saying,” Sam explained. 

“How the hell did you figure that one out, Sherlock?” Dean asked, watching the animal turn in to the ear scratches like a content house cat.

Sam rubbed the wolf’s silky fur, analyzing the heavy collar. Old, dry and crusted blood around the animal’s neck suggested it wasn’t much fun to wear. 

“That chuffing noise he was making earlier? I think he was laughing. Which tells us two things.”

“Namely?” Dean asked.

“One, it understands us. And two, its sense of humor is as terrible as yours.”

The monster chuffed again, the deep, brassy sound sending vibrations through Sam’s chest.

Dean snorted behind him. “Wonderful. The monster lion-wolf-dog thing thinks I’m hilarious. At least something around here has good taste.”

The wolf lunged left in a blink, ducking around Sam’s torso, its long neck reaching as it snaked out to lick Dean in the face with a massive, sandpapery tongue.

“Hey! Damnit, don’t do that. God, that is so nasty,” Dean groaned lifting his shirt to rub the thick gob of dog saliva off his face. 

“I think you brought that one on yourself,” Sam replied, relieved to his core that licking was the only thing the animal had done. Jesus, it was quick.

“The thing is stupid fast,” Dean noted. “Maybe you should go back to rubbing his ears.”

Sam complied, lulling the animal back to its relaxed state. Dean sidled slowly up alongside the beast, the demon blade in his hand. 

“Sam,” he murmured, “Keep it calm.” 

Dean analyzed the huge collar on the monster’s neck, finally reaching out to tug on it.

“Relax, Cujo,” Dean told the wolf when it began to growl a warning. “We’re the ones with opposable thumbs around here, so let me look.”

The wolf subsided. The stones along the necklace flashed and the creature whined, shifting its weight unhappily. Whatever was going on, it definitely involved pain.

Dean locked eyes at Sam, looking down at the collar. The wolf-thing pulled away from them and began to walk, pacing around the room in uneasy circles and panting.

Dean stepped close to his brother. “Sam,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m not sure we can get the collar off before that thing goes nuclear, or if we even should. If the wizards really are controlling it, I think we both know what they are ordering it to do.”

“Yes, Dean,” Sam argued. “We know what he’ll do if they continue to control him. We don’t know what he’ll do if he’s free. I like those odds better.”

“I don’t know, Sammy. Trying to team up with a jeep-sized wolf doesn’t exactly strike me as that great an idea. Maybe you should distract it again and I’ll put a blade in its eye, put the thing out of its misery.” 

A snarl was the only warning before something immensely heavy landed on Dean’s chest, bringing him to the ground hard. Dean grunted, the wind thoroughly knocked out of him.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, charging forward.

“Sammy, don’t!”

The animal was inches from his face, snarling. Its eyes were filled with awareness…and pain. The gems around its neck now glowed brightly enough to cast dim illumination through the whole cavern.

“Dean, you okay?” Sam asked softly.

“I’m fine. Stay back. If it wanted to kill me, I’d already be in bloody chunks.” 

The animal’s dinner plate sized paws had landed on either side of his head, rear feet on the ground. A single gauge from any of them and Dean would be using his own intestines as a jump rope. The wolf thing leaned in closer and Dean’s hands automatically grabbed at the animal’s sides, the left one coming away covered in blood not his own.

“Plan A it is,” he told his brother. “Let’s free the damn thing.” He looked into the beast’s bright eyes, narrowed with distrust. 

“Get the hell off me if you want to lose the jewelry.”

The wolf slowly backed up, finally taking a seat, just shy of eye level with Dean once he’d regained his feet. “I promise,” he told the animal. “We’re gonna help, okay? No knife in the eyeball. You’re gonna have to trust us.” The animal sighed, but the rage left its posture. Now it just looked tired. A bright flash from the gems and the animal screamed, biting at the air.

Sam stepped forward, “Okay. I’ll do it, give me the knife.” The wolf stood up and twined around Sam’s body, catlike, then gently shoulder-checked him several feet backwards, turning back to face Dean. 

“Or maybe you should,” Sam amended, regaining his balance.

The animal shook itself out, turned and clamped tight on an outcropping of rock, jaws grinding the stone as it bit down hard.

Dean slid off his belt, sliding the thick leather between the wolf’s neck and the collar. “This is probably gonna hurt like hell,” he warned the creature, “Don’t bite me.” He stuck the blade into the lock fastening, prying at it. 

At least lighting wasn’t an issue. The more he worked, the brighter the gems glowed, giving him more than enough light to see by. The wolf snarled, the vocalization gradually morphing to an ear-piercing whine. The sound of grinding rocks, faint at first, grew louder as the beast’s massive jaws chewed away. 

Sam came over to hold the collar steady as Dean worked. The smell of burning fur filled the chamber. The wolf-dog shivered, twitching, but didn’t release its death grip on the rock.

“Easy, boy” Dean murmured. “Nearly there. Hang on just a little bit longer.” 

The blade slid a little deeper into the lock and jammed. Dean swore. 

“Screw this.”

Dean hauled back and slammed the base of his fist into the hilt of the knife, driving it deep into the locking mechanism and clean through, the blade’s tip catching in the double fold of protective leather of Dean’s belt instead of imbedding in the animal’s neck. One more solid whack and the blade went through.

The gems in the collar cracked and went dim, plunging the room back into darkness. A dull thud echoed through the chamber as the heavy collar slid harmlessly to the floor with a metallic clunking sound. The wolf beast jerked back, and spun away. 

Dean grabbed his brother and shoved him into a corner. Sam dug out their flashlight and turned it on the animal. The wolf stood tall, shaking its powerful body as if it was coated in water. It raised its bloody muzzle to the sky and howled, a long, resounding note that echoed throughout the caves, the walls quaking with the sheer volume of the animal’s cry. 

The sound was equal parts joy and victory, and fear of the most primal nature tore at Dean’s deepest instinct. Somewhere in his DNA, he was questioning his species decision to ever climb out of the primordial water in the first place. Because here there be monsters.

The sound slowly died away and the animal twisted its lupine body, loping away down the black corridors on silent paws. 

“Hey!” Dean yelled. “We had a deal! Get your ass back here, Clifford, and guide us out!” The animal disappeared down the long corridor.

“Unbelievable,” Dean growled. He picked up the demon blade and angrily threaded his belt back into place.

“Well, that was less then ideal,” Sam commented, turning the flashlight beam down the path. “But it’s better than nothing.”

“How do you figure?” Dean asked, striding behind his larger sibling. “We spent the better part of an hour breaking that damn thing free and got a whole pile of nothing for our troubles.” 

“Well, not nothing. I mean, it was sent to kill us, and now it won’t. One less monster to fight, yeah?”

“I guess,” Dean replied dubiously. “Still a dick move on its part, though.”

“I don’t disagree,” Sam replied. “Let’s just hope we can find the way out on our own.”

“I’m still a little confused about why you agreed not to stab him,” Sam said, glancing over.

Silence. 

“Dean?”

His brother sighed. “When that thing jumped me, took me down? Well, I grabbed it and felt scar tissue pretty much everywhere. That thing was already a prisoner, thanks to the collar, and they still cut on it, over and over. Layers of scar tissue like that don’t form overnight.”

“You felt sorry for it,” Sam replied in realization.

“All I’m saying is it wasn’t right. A clean kill I can get behind. But what they did was wrong. You know I ain’t exactly a big fan of dogs, but I know enough to know you shouldn’t be able to play the xylophone on their ribs. He should have been crazy with hunger, but it didn’t even try to eat us. I figure that deserves a fair shake.”

Sam smiled into the darkness. His brother didn’t often let his soft spots show.

“Plus,” Dean added pragmatically. “We didn’t have a snowball in hell’s chance of beating that thing in the dark. Not with just a knife and a pair of bullets between us. We can always kill it later.”

That was the Dean he knew and loved.  
\---------------------------------

They walked through the tunnels, ultimately flipping a coin whenever they came to a fork. It seemed a good method as any. Sam lost track of the hours, and it seemed pointless to keep asking Dean. But sooner or later water was going to become an issue. 

A cacophony of noises sounded in the distance behind them, distracting him from his cheery thoughts. The sounds continued, growing more and more frequent, if not any closer.

“Does that sound like lots of screaming to you?” Sam asked, shining the light so he could see his brother’s face.

Dean grinned, his gaze merciless under the faint light as he glanced over at his brother. “That it does. You were right, Sammy. Cutting the wolf-dog loose was much better than nothing. I don’t think we need to worry about those mage-druids hurting us or anyone else any more. Bon-appetite, beastie.”   
\------------------------  
Something occurred to Sam some time later. “Dean? Didn’t you bring a compass with you?” 

Dean always wore his coat, even in the summer, not only because that heavy fabric helped block punches and buffer his body from falls, but also because the massive thing was loaded with pockets, and he’d added several more hidden spots as well. Dean could carry near a backpack’s worth of gear on him if he stocked it right. 

“’Course I did.” 

Dean held the little metal circle in front of his brother and Sam turned the flashlight to it. The little arm swung left and right aimlessly, occasionally making full, lazy circles.

“One of the first things I did when we woke up was to check it. But unless we run across Jack Sparrow down here, I don’t think that thing’s gonna do a whole hell of a lot of good,” Dean added.

“I wonder what’s causing that?” Sam mused “Magnets, maybe? Or a side of effect of the mage magic?”

“Ley lines,” a feminine voice replied from somewhere in the darkness to their left. “Three of them transect right over this mountain range. That’s why the Order made their home here in the first place.”

Dean’s gun was drawn before conscious thought, aiming at the sound of the voice. Sam was a split second behind, left handing his weapon since the right carried the flashlight.

“Easy sister,” Dean growled. “Come out nice and slow or I ventilate you.”

Sam turned the light in the direction he’d heard the voice in time to see a figure step forward from a hidden alcove. Short, she couldn’t have been much over 5 feet, her petite figure draped in one of the brown robes the mage-druids were so fond of.

“Easy gunslinger, I’m unarmed.” The girl had both arms out in front of her, palms out. “I come in peace.” She smiled, the light gleaming off perfectly white teeth. Her eyes were big and brown, her too-thin face innocent. She appeared all of twenty, if that. 

Dean kept his weapon trained on the girl, knowing far better than to trust the girl by appearance alone. “Are you one of them?”

She laughed. “Hardly. They’re druid derivatives. All boys club, you know. Not that I’d join if I could.” She frowned, all mirth leaving her face. “Their magic is powered by live sacrifice.”

“We know,” Sam said gently, wearing what Dean called his ‘reassuring’ face. 

“We’ve seen what they do, and we came here to stop them,” he told the girl.

“That’s good of you. Not all monsters have fangs, you know.” Her eyes softened with regret. “And that order was full of human monsters.”

“Well, now they’re very dead monsters,” Dean told her, cautiously lowering his weapon, though he didn’t holster it. “And from the sound of it, they died bloody.”

“Good. They deserved it.”

“So, what are you doing here, if you’re not with them?” Dean may have lowered his weapon, but his guard was very much up and running. 

“I was their prisoner. For a long time. But something happened, and I was able to escape. I’m finally free.”

Okay, that didn’t sound ominous at all, Sam decided. Why would the wizards keep an innocent girl instead of sacrificing her for the power bump? Sam glanced over at Dean. His brother wasn’t buying it any more then he, apparently.

“There’s no chance you know the way out of here, is there?” Dean asked warily.

She grinned. “Sure do. It’s not exactly a short trip though. When the wizard in charge of guard posts died, all the direct passages shut down. This place is a labyrinth. It’ll take a few days to walk out of here. Maybe more, depending on which tunnels are still available.”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

“But you do know how to get out, even with all that?” Sam clarified.

“That I do. I was on my way out, anyway. You’re welcome to tag along if you want.”

She turned and started off down the tunnel. Dean shrugged and followed. When they came to the next fork, a division with three different options, she made a confident turn into the most left. 

“Look, Miss, uh, what’s your name?” Sam asked.

She glanced back, walking gracefully despite the darkness in front of her. “Call me Dannie.”

“Nice to mean you, Dannie. I’m Sam, and this is my brother Dean.”

“Charmed,” she replied, eyes twinkling in the dim light. She raked her gaze slowly down Dean’s body in obvious appreciation. His horn-dog of a brother winked back. 

Sam held back a sigh. Naturally. “So, Dannie. Any chance there’s a source of water anywhere down this road?” Sam continued. “It’s been a good twenty-four hours since we were grabbed, and I’m running a little dry.”

“Don’t worry, I’m way ahead of you. The tunnel I just turned through isn’t the most direct way that I know of, but it offshoots to a path that meets with one of the main water sources the Order diverted for their own use. We’ll get there in a few hours. It’ll delay our grand exodus a bit, but I don’t know of a closer water source.”

“You seem to know a lot about the wizards,” Sam commented. 

“Well, they were fairly loose lipped around their prisoners, and I was never meant to leave this place alive. Their power is contained in the stones they wear, stolen from the lives they take. It used to be, when they first started, that their spells could last for centuries. But, like any good Order of narcissists, they took on acolytes. And the next generation was about as charming as their Masters. Wasn’t long before the new kids started scheming and killing the elders and claiming their power and artifacts for themselves. 

“The Elders quickly realized which way the wind was blowing, and came up with a new idea. They still wanted acolytes to do their bidding, but they didn’t want to be watching their back day and night. So, they killed all the noob’s, and modified all their spell work, tying the spell roots to their own life forces. Kill the mage, and all his active spells die with him. 

“When they brought in the new batch of bright eyed, baby faced, power hungry killers, they made certain never to divulge which wizards controlled which spells. So, if you killed one, you didn’t know if you were destroying the emergency escape tunnels, the water diversion and purity magic, or the spell kept the pantry food cold. It was extremely effective. The elders lived bright, long lives, only passing on their spells to a chosen follower at death. Did wonders for promoting loyalty and dedication.”

“Effective,” Dean commented. 

“Well, it kept the Order alive and well for the better part of 1000 years.”

“Until now,” Dean replied.

She laughed. “Yes, indeed. Until now. And you two.”

“As much as I love to claim heroic deeds, this wasn’t us.” Dean replied. “Though that was the original plan.”

“You hunted them, yes? Dared to track them to their stronghold. And now they’re dead. I’m sure that’s pure coincidence.” She chuckled, the cheerful sound echoing softly against the tunnel walls. 

Before either of them could reply, Dannie took them to a sharp right through a hidden doorway that neither would have discovered on their own, the sudden sound of rushing water silencing any conversation. Dannie sped up, though her pace remained sure and even despite the uneven, rock-strewn flooring. 

“I thought you said the spells died with the wizards?” Sam asked.

“For the most part, they did. That wasn’t a spell; just a run of the mill optical illusion.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ve seen The Last Crusade,” Dean told her. “But there’s still no way your finding that turn unless you know exactly where to look.” 

“I’ve been here for a while.”

They turned again, the path opening to some form of illumination. Anther turn, and the light was brighter still. And there it was. A large, well-lit chamber built around a five-foot wide river with a gentle current flowing straight through the chamber’s center. What looked like modern lights were strategically placed throughout the chamber, casting the area in a soothing glow.

“Is this water safe to drink?” Sam asked, eyeing the flowing stream hungrily.

“Yep,” Dannie replied definitely. “It was diverted through this chamber ages ago, and it’s the wizard’s primary water source. It’s driven-snow pure. Not even any fluoride.”

It certainly looked enticing. The lighting was more than sufficient to show that the water was crystal clear, down to the smooth rocks of the riverbed. 

The girl walked to the edge and crouched down, cupping her hands to gather water and took a deep draught. 

Sam and Dean exchanged pointed looks, a whole conversation covered in one gaze. No, they couldn’t be sure the water was really okay, but they didn’t have much else in the way of options. Shrugging, Dean gestured for Sam to wait, then walked over, knelt at the water’s edge and took a cautious drink.

“Dean?”

“Well, it certainly tastes refreshing. I’m not dead yet, for whatever that’s worth.”

“Guys, whether you trust me or not doesn’t really matter,” Dannie told him reasonably. “You can continue to wait for Dean to react if the water is bad, and if he goes down try and protect him. Not sure how much good it’ll do, since we optimistically still have two days walk to the closest egress, courtesy of a bunch of dead mages and their stupid maze spells. Or…”

“Right,” Sam interrupted. There was no way he’d be able to get 200# of unconscious brother out on his own, and there was no way he’d leave him, so he might as well take the water’s safety on faith. 

Sam took a seat at the water and reached in. The water was surprisingly warm. For whatever reason, he’d assumed it’d be ice cold. Instead, it was a soothing luke warm temperature. Not the best for drinking, but he imagined it’d feel amazing against his dry, frankly itchy skin. Sam was uncomfortably reminded that it’d been a day or two past comfortable since either he or Dean had gotten a chance to shower. 

Apparently Sam wasn’t the only one feeling that way. Their little guide shucked her monk’s robe, revealing that she wore not a stitch underneath. She efficiently braided her long hair, which the light revealed to be a rich, chocolate-cherry shade, and tucked the artful knot back somehow so that it stayed high on her head.

She slid into the water up to her shoulders with a happy moan, and went still, allowing the flowing water to rush gently past. 

Dean was openly staring, not even making an effort to avert his gaze. Sam glared at his brother, meeting an unrepentant grin. Typical.

Dean was working on getting his jacket off, theoretically to follow Dannie’s lead, when she climbed back out of the water, kneeling on the edge and toweling off with the edge of her robe. Her long hair fell out of its temporary braid, falling in a wave over her right shoulder down her chest, the effect emphasizing what remained a fairly generous endowment of cleavage, regardless of the obvious signs of chronic starvation.

She was far beyond skinny, her tiny body more anatomy lesson than person. Old scars scored her back and arms, the damaged layers suggesting she’d healed, only to be beaten again. 

Dean was still staring, all hint of the lewd or lasvicious cleared from his eyes. “Darlin’, don’t get me wrong, but you could seriously benefit from a cheeseburger. Or twelve.”

Dannie looked up from where she crouched by the water, waves of silky hair sliding to her back when she turned her head to face him. She grinned mischieviously. 

“Why Dean, are you inviting me out for dinner?” She purred. 

To Sam’s surprise, his brother didn’t flirt back. He was looking at the girl’s side, where an angry laceration slashed along her ribs. The cut was obviously very recent, barely past the oozing stage.

Dannie followed his gaze and frowned, reaching for her robe and pulling the heavy fabric over her head, cloaked once again in folds of fabric to her ankles. Had she been walking barefoot this whole time? Sam wondered. There was no sign of injury or blood along her feet. 

Dean slid out of his coat and shucked his flannel overshirt and t-shirt, efficiently working his way through a whore’s bath at the water’s edge. Sam followed his example. 

Dannie sat cross legged, watching Dean with an open appreciation. Dean must’ve felt her gaze, because he glanced back and smirked. Something in Sam relaxed. It always reassured him when Dean was being Dean.

The warm water had an unexpected effect. By the time Sam had finished and redressed, he was bone-tired. Not the ‘Damnit, I’ve been drugged by evil wizards’ tired, but the more natural one that stemmed from lack of food and water, with too many hours on high alert. A nap sounded wonderful. But they had a ways to go. 

He needn’t have worried; a glance at their guide showed the girl had curled up in the folds of her robe and appeared sound asleep.

“Go ahead, Sammy. Take a nap. I’ll swap with you in an hour or two,” Dean told him. “I’m not quite ready to pass out just yet.”

His body didn’t need any more reassurance, and he was asleep by the time he was fully horizontal, reassured that Dean was looking out for him.

A hand on Sam’s shoulder a few minutes later had him bolting up instantly. He settled when he saw Dean’s reassuring form crouched beside him. 

“Dean? What’s up?

“Rise and shine, Sammy. It’s been two hours and I need a little shut eye. Your turn to man the watch.”

Sam winced at his brother’s uncomfortable word choice, still traumatized by the endless Tuesday of bloody death. Then his mind caught up with Dean’s words.

“What? I just fell asleep a few minutes ago.”

“Which of us is carrying a functional time piece, again?” Dean asked. “I promise, it’s been hours. In fact, here.” He unbuckled his watch and handed it over. “One hour power nap, then we wake her majesty up and get the hell out of here.”

“Right,” Sam agreed. 

There was no way he’d be getting his brother up in one hour. Even Dean needed a few hours of quality sleep. He glanced over at Dannie in time to see her bright eyes wide open and alert. She winked at him, rolled over and appeared to go back to sleep. Who knows, maybe she actually was. Regardless, in a few hours, they were all headed out.  
\----------------

“What the hell, Sam? I said one hour,” Dean swore at his brother as he reattached his watch. Dean had been less then thrilled when Sam woke him three hours later. 

“And I heard you. But we’ve been beaten, drugged, drugged again, and walked for over a day down here. And that’s not counting the last several days we spent trekking through the woods to get here. You needed the sleep.”

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s just get the hell out of here. You ready to rock, Sweetheart?” He directed the last at Dannie, as the petite girl rose to her feet and stretched. 

“Born ready. And don’t be calling me Sweetheart unless you’ve got chocolate on hand to back it up, Doll-face.” 

Sam chuckled.

Dean rolled his eyes, and slid his coat on, patting it in various spots to verify all his miscellaneous toys were appropriately settled. Armor donned, Dean gestured for Dannie.

“You’re up.” 

Dannie smiled. “A girl does love to feel needed. So, I’m going to take the most direct path, and hope none of the emergency fail safes trashed that tunnel. If you have any way to carry water, you may want to stock up; not much in the way of sources from here.”

Dean, of course, dug a small canteen from some pocket or another, and took a final, deep drink before filling it. Sam drank as well, as much as he could comfortably take in without feeling bloated.

“Lead on, MacDuff.”

Dannie took them through one of the nearer tunnels confidently, Dean following close behind, flicking on the flashlight to light the path in front of them. Dannie didn’t appear to need light. 

Sam was more then curious about the girl’s story, but getting out was the first priority, he could figure her out once they were safely outside the underground hell maze they’d been stuck in.

They walked along in silence for some time. Occasionally paths diverged, sometimes she took apparent random offshoots, but usually she kept to the main paths. Sam tried to keep track, but with the darkness, and the sheer sameness of it all, he had to admit he was well and truly lost. He frequently glanced at is brother, wondering if Dean shared his concerns, but his big brother seemed perfectly comfortable following their enigmatic guide.

“Dannie,” Dean said, some time later. “I think I owe you an apology.”

“Oh? What for? Was it the peeping Tom act while I was having a bath? Because I was totally down with that.”

“I’m not talking about that. You were posing and we all know it. No. Honestly, I didn’t think for a minute that you’d keep your side of the bargain. I have to admit I’m surprised.” 

What? What bargain? Sam nudged his brother’s shoulder, silently demanding an answer. But Dean didn’t need to clarify. Sam realized a moment later that they’d only made one deal since they’d been down here. 

Dannie glanced back at them, her elfin features and kawaii-large eyes amused. “What can I say? I’m a monster of my word.”  
\-----------------------------------------

It was really true. Sam was speechless. Though in retrospect, it was fairly obvious, all things considered. Dannie’s opportune appearance in their path had been a little too coincidental to be coincidence.

“I’m curious; how ‘d you figure it out?” She asked. 

Sam was glad she’d asked; he was dying to know as well. What clues had he missed that Dean had caught?

“Well, you suddenly appearing in our path when we haven’t seen another living thing was fairly suspicious,” Dean told her. “Still, that didn’t mean anything; you could be some creepy prisoner that got out when the mages bit it.”

“Why must I be creepy?” she asked indignantly.

“Because, you’re tiny and utterly unconcerned about being with us, to very large, slightly intimidating, armed guys. Even a powerful being takes a least a second look. You weren’t even a little nervous. But then, a metric ton of toothy carnivore doesn’t have all that much to be afraid of, does it?”

She laughed. “Sadly, it’s that exact hubris that got me trapped down here in the first place. But please, continue.”

“Being able to see in the dark, not to mention striding shoeless for hours down a rocky tunnel made an impact, but I didn’t really make the connection until you stripped at the river. I remember that slash down the side of your rib cage. When you jumped me, I grabbed you right there and my hand came away bloody. I remember feeling tons of scar tissue over not nearly enough meat for a healthy animal. And look at you, even in human form that hasn’t changed.”

Sam could admit to himself that he felt slightly better about the situation knowing his brother had access to clues that he hadn’t. He’d been kicking himself for not figuring out sooner, but this made sense. And really, even werewolves were mostly human. They’d never run into anything that could be a tiny girl or a car sized dog-wolf before.

“What the hell are you, exactly?” Sam asked. 

“Dannie. What about you, Hunter?” She asked snippily, clearly stung by his sharp tone. “What are you? I’d say human, but no normal human reeks that much of Hell without a demon at the wheel. And I’d know if that were the case. Their presence taints a host in such a way I’d have to be nose-blind to miss it.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you with the question, I was just curious,” Sam placated. “And I have been possessed, if that makes a difference.” He had no intention of telling a stranger his life story.

“Nope. That scent you carry? It runs much, much deeper then simple possession. I’ve never smelled anything like it.”

Well, if she didn’t recognize what he carried within him, then it was unlikely she was demonic evil. Which didn’t make her any less a monster, just not a Hellspawn derivative. 

“I’m sort-of one of a kind,” Sam told her carefully.

She flashed him a knowing smile. “You and me both, Cutie-pie.”

Sam glanced over at Dean. His brother wore his cool, all-business expression that meant as soon as they were done with the girl-wolf-dog, she’d most likely catch a bullet in the face. It also meant he was somewhat conflicted about the decision. Sam would back his play if it came down to it, but he really didn’t want gank the girl without more information.

If Dannie was concerned about what happened once they were all free, now that her alter ego was revealed, she didn’t show it. She moved forward in that smooth, unhurried gait that carried her so quickly through the tunnels that he and Dean were hard pressed to keep up in the darkness. 

They walked on in silence, the humans of the group focusing on where they put their feet and not tripping while maintaining the pace their guide was setting. Sam was so focused on moving forward, he nearly missed it when Dannie came to an abrupt halt, Dean right behind.

Dean reached a hand back to help Sam regain his balance, never taking his eyes of his guide. “What is it?”

“This,” she gestured at the wall. Dean sent the light’s beam on the indicated spot, revealing more of the runic symbols.

“Can you read that?”

“Course,” she told him absently, eyes moving along the sigil. “It’s not exactly Shakespere. We had to diverge from the main path a while ago; I smelled polluted air down that way. Which means at least some of the Order’s booby traps engaged when they died.”

“So, what? We’re looking at Home-Alone; cave edition?” Dean asked.

She grinned back at him. “More like Mousetrap, but yeah, basically.” Her smile faded, “I’ve been trying to dodge potential traps, but my senses are limited like this. It’s best if I run ahead for a bit and investigate. You mind waiting here for 10-15 minutes while I scout?”

“Be our guest,” Sam told her. He didn’t know about his brother, but he could use a break. And he wasn’t exactly in top condition for fighting off random traps in the dark.

“Wait, you’re going in your other form, right?” Sam asked, realizing what she meant. Dannie nodded slowly. “Can I watch you change?” 

“Voyer, huh?” She purred. “I like.” She winked, and slid the heavy robe over her head. 

She took a deep breath, and sighed, an expression of bliss on her face. 

Apparently turning into the giant wolf wasn’t just an ability, it was an integral part of her, maybe more so then the human girl. Sam understood the feeling of freedom after a lifetime of shackles. 

The wolf-dog-girl’s body slicked, like running water pouring down her. The water gleamed, sparkling like a fractaled geode in the flashlight’s glare. She stretched, and the girl was gone, the massive wolf in its place. The giant animal turned to look at them, its eye colour losing the almond brown hue, becoming more and more yellow until they glowed with the familiar golden light. 

The wolf stretched out in a full downward dog, its claws scraping against the stone. She shook her body out, fur fluffy and dry. The wolf raised its head and howled the song of her people. She straightened and lunged in a sudden, smooth twist to tongue a giant wet lick against Dean’s face, chuffing in laughter while he sputtered. She spun away and disappeared down the black tunnel.  
\----------------------------

Dean groaned, sliding down the wall to sit. “I don’t know about you, but all this fumbling in the dark is killing me,” he told his brother.

“Tell me about it,” Sam replied, sitting down as well and stretching his long legs. “Do you think she really intends to come back?”

“Whose to say? We’re taking it on faith that this is even the right way out.” 

They sat, enjoying the break while the waited for their guide to return.

A sound had both brothers instantly on alert.

“Dannie?” Sam called softly, grabbing the flashlight and casting the beam about for the mammoth animal.

“It’s not Dannie,” Dean muttered. “She doesn’t make that much noise. If she wanted to sneak up on us, we’d never hear her coming.” 

“What are you implying?” A cultured voice asked.

A wizard-druid, and really, they needed a better name for them, stepped out from a hidden hallway. He gestured, and the room was filled with light. He held a glowing gem in one hand, a 9mm glock in the other. 

Sam held very still, hands up. Dean shifted his weight slightly, eyes trained on the weapon. He rested his hands on a bent knee. His voice was calm, but his expression promised swift, bloody death. 

“I’m not implying anything,” Dean told the wizard cooly. “I’m flat out saying it; if you were any louder I’d think we were having some sort of parade, complete with confetti.”

“That’s adorable. Too cute for words. I’m Dreydon, previously Speaker of the Daelic Order. And you two flannel-clad mouth breathers somehow managed to destroy a thousand year old Collective comprised of some of the highest mages in ancient Ireland, apparently by simply showing up.”

Dean shrugged. “What can I say? That’s kind of our jam.”

“Your ‘jam’?! Dozens of high powered spells, over 800 hundred years worth of power repositories, all reduced to glittery pebbles, because that’s your jam?” He raised the hand holding the gun, waving it about in agitation.

Dean shrugged, eyes locked on the flailing firearm. 

“To be fair,” Sam added, “It wasn’t entire our fault. We were just trying to leave.” 

“That’s not entirely true,” Dean countered. “We came here to hunt and kill the lot of you. Then we were going to leave.” Sam glared over at him.

The mage didn’t seem to even notice Dean’s words. “Not your fault? This destruction of our entire clan is not your fault? How do you figure that? It was you two who released the Beast, was it not? No one else would have been so foolish. It is an ancient thing, something even our enemies would have died to keep bound. Our ancestors sacrificed their own children to acquire the necessary power to trap it! So, before I slaughter you both and use your life energy to escape this wasteland of our home, I must ask. Why on earth would you do such a thing?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time?’ Dean asked. He gave the man his patented ‘fuck-you’ smile.

The wizard stared down at Dean, mouth open and closing soundlessly. Whatever words the mage was trying to find, clearly weren’t making it past the disconnect in his mind at Dean’s words. 

“I think you broke him,” Sam commented casually. 

“Should we try turning him off and back on again?” Dean asked.

“Since we’ve been so forthcoming,” Sam said to the wizard. “I have a question. Why would you even try to capture her in the first place?”

“It wasn’t our finest plan,” the wizard admitted. “First, we banished her to the Mist, and thought we were free. But we underestimated the creature. She hated us, what we are, our power. She sent her warriors after us in droves, filling them with her own wild magic.” The wizard leaned against the wall, a smug look on his bruised face.

Sam glanced at Dean and grinned faintly. Evil monologue accomplished. Not to mention saving them hours of trekking through lore books to figure out exactly what they were dealing with.

“It weakened her, when her people died. And we drank that power to create warriors of our own to battle them.” He took on a dreamy look. “Those were the golden days for our Order, you know. Our mages subverted entire armies. The Milesians never knew what hit them. They fought our battles for us while our mages drank wine and fed on the death of both sides.” 

And now Sam knew exactly what their wolf-girl was, if not how the reality compared with known folklore. 

“It was all so perfect,” the mage continued dreamily. “She was the only one that stood a chance against our might. And she couldn’t leave the mist, not without leaving much of herself behind. She’d put too much of her power into her people. It’s that protective instinct, you know.”

“It does sound like your forefathers were mighty,” Sam told him, ignoring Dean’s eye-roll. “But how could they capture her? Danu was a god.”

“Eh. Depends on how you define ‘God’ I suppose. But she had power, and she was a divine entity. It was rumored that she was cast from the heavens themselves for her knowledge, but she never did speak of that, and we didn’t care enough to ask.”

“And she was always far more than just Danu, by the way. She had many names, and wore multiple hats. She was the Tuatha de Danan. The Guardian of Ireland and its people. And she gifted her power to her followers, who took her name to honor her.”

“Sounds pretty powerful,” Dean commented. “How’d you mooks catch her in the first place?”

“Mooks?” The monk/mage surged forward and smacked Dean across the face with the gun. 

Sam winced on his brother’s behalf. Being pistol whipped sucked. Where the hell was their backup? Surely she heard the wizard. 

Dean shook his head, trying to reorient. 

The wizard continued as if he’d never paused. “As to catching her. Her people were her children; and she is a creature born to protect. It was just a matter of finding the right bait.” 

Dean narrowed his eyes, following the wizard’s story in a way that belied his ‘dumb hunter’ persona. “You took her kid.”

“That we did. It decimated our armies, catching Lugh. But it was well worth it, we didn’t need them anymore, and we used their life force in the final sacrifice. 

“Part of the initiation into our Order requires drinking from the Elder Chalice so that you may dream walk through our history. Through the great battles as seen as by our ancestors themselves.”

“Sort of like a Pensieve. Like from Harry Potter?” Sam asked. The wizard glared down at them. “Yes, like that,” he agreed through gritted teeth. “That monster you unleashed destroyed it. She destroyed everything!” 

“Sounds to me like you deserved it,” Dean told him.

“We caught her fair and square,” the wizard retorted indignantly.

“You were telling us about that?” Sam prodded. 

The wizard preened. “Catching her was simple, actually. We had to wait until we had the power amassed, of course.”

He paused. “Though why I’m wasting time talking to corpses, I can’t say.” He grinned. “Now, there’s an idea. Your death energy will be more than sufficient to raise you again. And your undead remains will rise and serve me until you rot. Which, won’t be but a week or two, but still. Plenty of time to get safely the hell out of here.” 

He raised the amber stone and chanted a few words. It began to glow faintly, the light fading and glowing in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“It needs a few minutes to warm up,” The wizard told them, leaning against the wall casually. “Reanimation is never a quick thing.”

“While we’re waiting, why don’t you finish the story?” Sam asked. “Apparently we have time to kill. And I’m curious how you defeated a god.”

“Eh, why not? I always fancied myself something of a bard. It’s all about painting the word picture. So. We could never defeat the Tuatha De Denan at full strength, she was the guardian spirit of all of Ireland. And she was trapped in the mist, far from our warriors and magics. Most of her was trapped, anyway. The powers that made her a god were centered there, and she was tethered by that. Going to her was impossible, she had to come to us.”

“We heard this part. You were on to torturing the kid,” Dean told him. Sam glanced over his brother; something in Dean’s tone put him on alert.

Dean’s eyes met Sam’s for a sharp second, then scooted past, looking briefly over Sam’s shoulder, before turning back to the wizard.

Something in Sam relaxed. Message received. He didn’t make the rookie mistake of glancing over to where his brother had focused; he didn’t need to. 

“Lugh was a tough one, but he screamed eventually. Everyone does.” The wizard’s eyes focused on Dean. “I feel like you would understand that. You have the look of one whose been broken beyond measure, again and again. It’s a look I’ve seen on more than one face.” Dean didn’t answer, but his gaze promised a bloody death.

“We broke Lugh eventually, and She heard his cries. She had to cut out her own essence to travel through the mist. Left all of her power behind to come for him, her child. By the time she found Lough, he was too damaged to fix without her power, but she ended his pain. And then that hateful bitch managed to take out nearly half our numbers even as a shell of her formal God self. We had no way of knowing that being the Celtic Wolf was part of her nature, not a power to be left behind in the mist. Eh, we got her in the end.”

“You sure about that?” Dean asked. “From where I’m sitting it looks like the other way around.” Sam sagged, suddenly tired. Whatever that spell was doing, it was slowly draining him dry. 

The wizard opened his mouth to answer what was no doubt a scathingly witty reply, but it was difficult to speak with half your face torn off.

Dannie-wolf snarled as she ripped and shredded the shrieking druid. She reached between his legs with her immense jaws and ripped his groin clear out of his body, spitting the bloody, dripping strips of organs onto the druid-mage’s face. 

“I think she’s mad,” Sam commented as she tore at the mage. The wet, gurgling sounds ensured that he was still alive through the destruction. 

“I don’t think I like her when she’s angry,” Dean commented, cautiously coming to his feet. 

He reached down and assisted his brother upright. The wizard’s glowing amber stone cut out, fading to darkness. It fell to the ground and cracked, splitting into pieces. The wizard had quit making noises, the quiet sounds of a giant carnivore chewing the only sounds in the chamber. Sam felt the return of his energy with the stone’s destruction.

Once she’d gotten all the good parts, the wolf stood, shifting smoothly back into the small girl. She was a mess, covered in blood and bits of human tissue, her tangled hair thick with congealing clots. 

“They never did understand. I was always the Wolf; first, last and always,” she commented calmly. “Everything else came much, much later.”

She glanced over at the brothers. “Well, that was a nutritious snack. Shall we move on?”

Dean took a cautious step forward. “You, ah, having something in your hair.”

“Hmm?” She pulled a strand down. A glob of something wet and sticky fell to the ground. “Ah, sorry. Anyway, go down that hallway. I’ll just run back to the water and wash that mage right out of my hair.”

She began to glow. 

“Dannie, wait. Why are you helping us?” Sam asked. “It’s obvious that without us you could be out by now.”

“Sam.” She sighed. “If you live long enough, and I mean super long. Really live those years, not sit in some fancy garden or gaze from afar as the eons crawl by. If you inhabit the world that long, somewhere along the way you will lose everything. All you have left is your honor. The truly old ones are true to their word because at some point in their lives, there was a time when that was all they had. And I am a very old thing. I’ll catch up with you.”

The naked girl became Wolf and dashed into the darkness. 

“Do you believe her? Dean asked. 

“Yeah, I do.”

“Me too,” Dean agreed. They walked on for a bit, focusing on not tripping.

“So, she’s Irish?” Dean asked as they resumed their journey. 

“Seems like. Original Irish, like before Ireland was a thing.”

“I dig Irish chicks.” 

“Dean, don’t you dare. She’s half dog, anyway.”

“Didn’t stop you,” Dean told him. Sam winced at the painful reminder. Years later it still hurt, the memory of murdering a beautiful, kind young woman he’d held in the throes of passion mere hours before putting a silver bullet in her heart. 

“But you’re right; she is a monster,” Dean added. “And we’re hunters.”

“That we are,” Sam agreed somberly.   
\--------------

“Hold up, guys. You’ve made good time,” Dannie’s voice sounded. The girl strode up to them, wearing the familiar monk robe. She was completely clean, looking nothing like the bloody mess she’d been.

“We’re getting closer to the main entrance. Maybe half a day. This happens to be where the bulk of the booby traps are. No real reason to have them at the heart of the keep. So stick with me, huh? I’m not sure what all is still working.”

“Was he the last of them?” Sam asked as they walked.

“The last of the mages that were in the Keep,” Dannie replied. “But they’d sent a few hunting parties out to get a new set of sacrifices. The emergency-return call went out, so they’ll be along shortly. I thought I heard some movement up above, so we may have more company. Which suits me, I’m still really hungry,” She smiled brightly.

“Any idea how many are left?” Dean asked her.

“Well, the Elder mages are too cool to do grunt work so they’d all be here. I can guarantee every one of them is Alpo chum at this point. The acolytes will have been in charge of the grocery shopping, so you won’t need to worry about higher magic users. The Order always has ten acolytes at a time. So, riddle me this: if Jimmy Wizard has 10 acolytes, and a Wolf eats six of them, how many are left?”

Dean snorted. “How are you not full?” 

“I only ate the really good, juicy parts, when I hunted them down. I needed the calories. See, I’d made this deal with these two idiot Hunters, so I had to get back to them before they accidentally made a wrong turn right into a deep well of lava. It put a dampener in the all you can eat Druid Buffet.” 

“We aren’t idiots,” Sam told her.

“Is that lava pit really a thing?” Dean asked.

“Well, we aren’t talking center of the earth liquid magma, but the water at the bottom is super hot. You fall down one of those and you’ll be steamed like rice before your halfway down. So, lets skip that.”

“Lets,” Dean agreed. 

The tunnel was windy, sometimes Sam swore he was going back down, or in a circle, but he had the feeling they were being taken around potential hazards. Dannie was concentrating very hard. The first time they came across one of the Junior wizards, Dean beat the everloving crap out of him. He backed off just in time for Dannie-Wolf to lunge. Like before, she went groin first, before tearing into his abdomen for the juicy bits. Fortunately for this mage, he was very unconscious for most of it.

“Do she have to…umm eat them in that order?” Sam asked.

“What, junk first?” Dean asked. “I admit, it’s disquieting. Let it go.”

“But…”

“Sam,” Dean murmured softly, barely audible over the sounds of the Wolf munching. 

“She’s a tiny human girl at least half the time. A pretty one, at that. And she’s been a slave to an all boy’s club for centuries. I’m guessing a lot of those guys didn’t exactly get a chance to date much.”

Oh. “You think that they might have…” Sam began.

“I’m positive they did.” 

Right. Sam didn’t feel remotely bad for the wizard anymore. 

Dannie had been more dainty in her eating this time around, and only had to wipe her face off the robe to get the blood off after shifting back to human. 

“Bonus, guys,” She called out, her voice muffled as she slid the heavy robe back on. Once she was as dressed as she ever got, the girl crouched in the bloody remains of wizard and rummaged around the pieces. “Where is it? I know I smelled ‘em. Ah hah!”

“Um, Dannie, is that really…” Sam began, halting when the Wolf-girl held aloft her prize.

She triumphantly pulled out a slightly bloody plastic bag, tossing it to Dean. He peered cautiously inside, beaming at the contents. “Awesome.”

He extracted a number of thick strips of gas station beef jerky and some protein bars. 

Sam’s stomach rumbled as he took the packages Dean handed him, far too prosaic to concern himself with the blood. The packaging was intact, and he was starving. What he’d been handed was definitely the lion’s share of the snacks, something he’d been too hungry to notice until he’d already eaten all of his. He sighed internally, he knew better; he should have been watching his overprotective brother.

“Dean,” he began.

“Shut up, Gigantor, and finish your cardboard,” Dean told him as he gnawed on a protein bar.

“Should we have stashed some of those?” Dean asked their guide, chewing his way through his second protein bar. He looked like he was eating drywall. 

“No need. We’ll be out in 5 hours or so, barring any major cave-ins. If I thought it would be longer I would have warned you. Also, there is one mage running around, I can smell him. If you’re in the mood for any long-pig I’m happy to share.”

Dean didn’t even pause in his chewing. “I’m good. Knock yourself out.”

Sam wondered if he should care more that they were basically endorsing the eating of other humans; but he didn’t. They’d tortured and killed innocents for centuries. They’d just violently sacrificed a pregnant girl and her fiancé for a power boost. Being eaten by a giant carnivore was better than they deserved.

“When you’re ready, start on down this path. There’s a turn two miles down, stay left. I’m going to grab second breakfast before we stumble into him.” So saying, she stripped again and began to shift.

“See if he as any more jerky,” Dean called out to the animal’s retreating form.

The walk was fairly straightforward, and the turn occurred roughly when their guide said it would. 

“Man, I cannot wait to get the hell out of this place,” Dean muttered, stumbling for the hundredth time on uneven footing.

“Right there with you,” Sam agreed. This hunt had been a nightmare.  
\---------------------------

“Well, this is a problem,” Dean commented. Sam looked on at the eight-foot wide chasm between them and the other side. The air had a freshness about it, and it actually flowed. They had to be near an exit. 

Sam tossed his broken cell phone into the chasm, waiting to hear the sound of it landing. Nothing. 

Their guide still hadn’t returned from her hunt. Dean didn’t let his concern show. Hopefully there was another way. He was not going back into that stygian mess. No now that he’d tasted fresh air.

“Well, this is a problem,” a female voice stated. Their guide appeared, looking frail and smelling like a house fire.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Fire trap,” Dannie said tightly. Her hair was singed, and the back of her neck was cracked and bleeding. “It was completely dormant till I walked right over it. 

“I was worse, until I found that last wizard. If I hadn’t eaten him, I’d still be a burnt mess.” 

Sam thought she still looked like a burnt mess. If this is what ‘better’ looked like, he didn’t want to imagine what she’d been like before.’

“Can you jump that?” Dean asked. “You look like you’re about to fall over.” 

She eyed the gap. “Yeah. Jumping with passengers is a different story.”

“Would sleeping help?” Sam asked. “We can wait.”

“No. It’s calories that I need. But I’m fresh out of evil wizards. I can jump this, and if I survive the jump and don’t set off any more traps I can probably make it out. I’ll hunt and come back for you both.”

That sounded like a lot of if’s to Dean. “Sam, why don’t you go left and see if there’s a way out over there. Maybe something she can sink her claws into.”

There wasn’t. Dean could see the invisible shine of steam coming out from the chasm and new it was burning hot below. He was sweating where he stood. The rock would be far too hot for wolf claws, even if she could Spiderman along the walls. But he needed to have a private word with their Wolf.

“How sure are you that there’s no more traps between here and the exit? You said earlier that the majority of them would be near the way out.”

“I’m not sure at all,” Dannie admitted softly. “I don’t go this way. There’s easier ways for a wolf to get out. But it’s a mess in the tunnels right now. I don’t know any other paths out that wouldn’t require going pretty much back to the hub.”

“No way. We are not trekking all the way back to the beginning.”

“Ill try a nap,” Dannie said. “Maybe it will help.” 

Dean nodded, gaze serious. “You think you’ll be able to get us out after that?”

“Hunter, I’m not sure I can get myself out without food. If I were on my own I’d spend the next month eating rats until I had the strength to try this jump.”

“We can’t survive that,” Dean stated, staring at the steamy chasm.” 

“I know.”

“So, try the nap. But when you wake up, if you don’t think you can make that jump with passengers, go to plan B.”

“Namely?” Dannie asked, confused.

“Way I see it, you have two viable food sources here.”

Dannie stilled. “That’s not an option.”

“Of course it is. If it comes to both of us dying in this damn mountain, you eat one, and carry the other one to freedom.” Dean narrowed his gaze, grabbing the girl by the neck of her robe. “You just be damn sure it’s me that you make into hamburger. Understand?” 

Dannie swallowed. “That wasn’t our deal.”

“You did your best,” Dean said calmly. “And you smell like old barbeque. I can’t imagine how flayed you are under that robe.”

“Ever read a Deadpool comic?” Dannie asked. “It’s kinda like that.” Dean winced in sympathy. But if she was really that injured, their options just became severely limited. And it reinforced his decision.

“So, if you wake up, and are sure, I mean really, really sure, that you can’t make that jump with a passenger, you do what you have to do.” He paused. “Just not balls first, okay?”

“It won’t come to that,” the wolf girl told him firmly. She walked a ways back from the heat emanating from the crevasse, settling down in a cool corner and falling into a deep sleep.

Sam joined him a few minutes later, looking down at the sleeping wolf girl. He was covered in sweat, his skin red from proximity to the steaming canyon. “I didn’t find anything she could cling to,” he told his brother softly. “I think the only way out is over.”

Dean nodded.

Sam stared at the sleeping wolf for a bit longer, then found a place of his own to sleep. Dean settled down against a wall and kept watch.  
\------------------  
Dannie woke several hours later, slightly less fried, but with a decidedly unhealthy pallor and a shakiness in her legs that Dean did not find remotely reassuring.

“So, all better and ready to go Jessie Owens on this bitch?” Dean asked.

She grinned faintly. “Born ready. Whose going first?” 

“That depends,” Sam interjected.

Dean raised an eyebrow in query.

“On what exactly?”

Sam pulled out a coin. “On which of us gets a ride across and which is puppy chow.”

Dean stilled. “You heard that, huh?” 

Sam glared at his older brother. “Every word. And this is not a decision you get to make. You aren’t sacrificing yourself for me. Not again.”

“Guys….” Dannie interjected.

Dean stared levelly at his brother, ignoring the wolf. “Sammy, look at her. She can barely stand as it is. No way she’s making a fifteen foot jump carrying 200+ pounds of Hunter, much less doing it twice.”

“I agree,” Sam said unflinchingly. “She needs the energy bump. So, heads or tails, Dean?”

“Guys…” 

“This is not a negotiation,” Dean yelled. “I’m making the call.”

“What gives you the right to…”

A furious roar filled the cavern, cutting Sam off mid-word.

Several hundred pounds of pissed off carnivore dove at them at a dead run, bumping Sam in the legs and dumping the tall hunter sideways his body sprawling partway on her back as the wolf locked her jaws on a hefty dose of flannel. 

Gathering herself, Danu, once Goddess of Wisdom and Wind, launched herself and her unsteady burden over the chasm. She screamed through locked jaws as the steam flayed her furry belly, landing in a tangled mess of Hunter and wolf limbs safely on the other side. 

The smell of burnt fur filled the air, the great Wolf panting heavily as she pulled herself to sit up. 

“Sammy! Sam!, You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sam called back to his brother, pulling himself to his feet. They’d landed with several feet to spare, though the heat filled the air to sweltering levels. “It’s like a damn sauna over here.” 

He crouched next to the silently panting wolf, staring at what was left of her fur. Her eyes were squinting and filled with pain. “What now?”

She weakly gestured with her head back across the gorge.

“You really think you can make that jump twice more?” Sam asked her.

She shrugged, wincing at the movement. She glanced over at the ravine, eyes calculating. The wolf stood and backed up, running at an angle towards the wall this time. Instead of flying over, she landed sideways against the wall, protecting her burned belly and using the flat surface to push off, landing unsteadily on her feet back on Dean’s side. 

It was a clever maneuver, but there was no way she’d be able to do that with a large passenger.

Dannie turned back to human, landing heavily on her naked ass. She laughed harshly, eyes squinted shut. Her face was a wet mess of sweaty blood. Dean had been to enough Hunter’s funerals to recognize the smell of cooking human. 

“You don’t look so good,” he told her, crouching at the wolf-girl’s side. 

“Exactly what a girl wants to hear from a handsome man. You’re such a charmer, Dean Winchester.” She broke off into harsh coughing, curling protectively around her abdomen.

“You got any skin left?” Dean asked.

“More or less. I can make the jump one more time. Probably.” She gazed up at him through wolf-gold eyes. “But I’ll be done after that. Out for the count. You and Sam will have to make the last few miles out on your own. You’re nearly there. Just watch out for any damned boobie traps, will you? Dying in vain is so 1800’s.”

“You aren’t gonna die,” Dean told her calmly. “Ain’t gonna happen. You don’t get to spend centuries enslaved to druid-wizard creeps only to cash in your chips on the way out.” 

“Not the death I’d choose,” she agreed. “But far better to die fighting then to live as I have been.” 

She coughed some more, this time blood coated her lips. Dean reached over and wiped her mouth with the druid robe. 

“There should be 4 more turns. Left, Left, Right, Left. Then straight on till you see daylight,” she told him. “Be careful. And watch out for your brother. He smells like Hell.”

“Yeah, we took care of that,” Dean said. “You want a little more time?”

She shook her head. “If I pass out, I’m not waking up any time soon. Best to get it down while I’m still conscious.” She glowed, her human body glittering in a fractal of light until the massive wolf appeared in its place.

“That is so cool,” Dean told her. Looking around, he found the monk’s cloak.

“Let’s wrap this thing around your body, maybe it will help protect you from steam burn.”

The wolf looked dubious but she allowed him to wrap the fabric tight around her abdomen, tucking the ends in so she wouldn’t trip on it. Legs wobbling, the giant wolf gently head butted him towards the edge. She turned away, backing up to get maximum speed.

Dean walked to the very edge of the cliff and crouched. Remembering how the wolf had grabbed Sam by his collar, Dean zipped his coat tight and fluffed his collar high on his neck. 

“See you on the other side, Sammy,” he called out. 

“I’m right here to catch you,” Sam yelled back. 

So much they could say, but they didn’t really need to. The Winchester’s were pros at Hail Marys. They didn’t need the words any more. 

Dean glanced back into the dark tunnel. “Yo! Are we gonna do this or…”

Suddenly he was being yanked roughly by the coat and he was sailing over the deep ravine, carried kitten-style, the burning steam raising blisters on his exposed skin. The other side was getting closer…closer. Christ, they might actually make it.

But they didn’t.

“Dean!”

The wolf’s leap fell just a meter short of the side. Dean’s body slammed into the burning wall of the cliff face, staring up at the edge they’d very nearly made. The wolf’s claws dug into the side, slowing their decent. Then Dean was moving again as the wolf twisted her neck, hurling his body up and mostly over the edge.

Sam was there, grabbing his arms and helping haul him to safety. Once he was on solid ground, the brothers slid to the edge on their bellies, gazing down. She was there, right below them, her claws raking the sides of the cliff, eyes glowing fiercely as she slowly clawed her way up the side.

A final push with her hind quarters and the car sized wolf leapt to the ravine edge, dragging her body all the way over.

She landed heavily, eyeing the hunters before slowly turning back to human.

“Told you I could make it,” she muttered. Her brown eyes, flecked with Wolf gold, flittered shut.

The brother’s exchanged glances. Flayed, fried, and unconscious she may be, but the wolf-girl’s chest rose and fell in an even cadence.

“Now what?” Sam asked.

Dean looked his brother. “Now we carry her. No way she’s dying in this place. Not after all that.” 

Sam nodded in agreement.

The monk’s robe had protected some of her skin, though it had melted to her abdomen in several places. Rather then pull it off and risk more damage, Dean wrapped her body in the fabric and picked her slight body up. 

“We’ve got to fatten you up some,” he murmured. 

“She eats people, Dean,” Sam reminded his brother. “She just ate an entire Order worth of mages.”

“What are you saying?” Dean asked, beginning their final trek through the dark length of cavern.

Sam followed, training the flashlight on the floor in front of them.

“She’s a monster. With a kill record. When she isn’t a tiny girl, she’s a wolf the size of a rhino. Maybe its better if she doesn’t wake up.” 

“She saved our lives, Sam. And got burned nearly to pieces doing it. She could have left us at any time and she’d be high and dry right now.”

“And how many people will die if she lives to start hunting?”

“We don’t know that she needs to eat people at all. Maybe she can live just fine on regular, non-soylent green food,” Dean argued. 

“Can we afford to take that chance? Because I’m not sure we can beat her once she’s at full strength.” 

It was a complete reversal from their regular roles, with Sam arguing in favor of killing. Dean had a new sympathy for his brother’s frustration with his ‘kill first- ask questions never’ mentality. 

“You really want to put a bullet in her head while she’s unconscious?” Dean asked. 

Sam hesitated. It wasn’t a kill he wanted to make. And if Dean of all people wanted to give her a pass… 

“We owe her, “ Sam said finally. “So she gets one chance. But if we ever find even a hint of Giant Killer Wolf murders…”

“I’ll personally bring the flame thrower,” Dean interrupted. The tunnel diverged. “She said to go left here, before she passed out.” 

They walked silently. After a while, they traded, Sam taking the unconscious girl while Dean manned the flashlight. 

They got lucky. No more traps after the heat ravine. The air flow got stronger the further they went, and greenery began sprouting along the sides of the caves. Green plants meant light. 

And then, almost without warning, they were out. Dean squinted, protecting his eyes from the bright light filtering in from the forest canopy.

“Holy shit. We made it.”

Sam looked around, his arms full of cloth wrapped girl. “Any idea where we are?”

Dean pulled out his compass. “Well, now that we are out of lee line central, this thing appears to be working. Also,” he pulled out his cell phone. “ I have GPS turned on one of the spare cell phones in Baby. Let’s go.”

It took another two hours of hiking before they came across an old Ranger’s cabin. The cabin had water and was well stocked with canned food. They intended to take turns keeping watch, but once they’d filled up with stove top canned stew and quick cold baths, they both succumbed to exhaustion.  
\-------------------------

“Yep, she’s long gone,” Dean reported when he finally regained consciousness the following morning. 

The first thing he’d done upon awakening was to look for their little friend. They’d left her in a ball of monk robe on one of the chairs when they first broke into the cabin. Now there was no sign of girl or robe save the faint, lingering smell of burnt flesh.

“Let’s hope she behaves,” Sam replied. 

They stole some more canned food, which Sam cooked while Dean was out behind the cabin messing with an old, beat up clunker of a Forest Ranger truck. 

Sam had just finished when the roar of an engine filled the air, followed by a jubililant ‘whoop’ of victory. Trust Dean to make that rusty mess purr. 

Sam filled coffee mugs with the heated stew and trotted out back, hopping into the passenger side while Dean stowed whatever he’d decided to steal from the well-stocked cabin.

“Alrighty, Sammy,” Dean told his brother with a grin. “Let’s get back into civilization. I need a cheeseburger in the worst way.”

\----------------  
Sam sat on his bed in their hotel room, laptop balanced on his bent knee. He was researching Irish mythology, but trying to discern fact from fiction was nearly impossible. The Irish loved to embellish, and a number of their tales had gone through Christian monks and had been altered by their belief structure. Very little of it really matched what he knew of their rescuer. 

What Sam did find verified Danu’s place among the deities. Regardless of which myth to belief, she had indeed been a Power at one time; that much was certain. 

The legends of the time considered her a nature god and a protector. It made sense that the type of magic the druid-wizards performed would be anathema to all that she was. As far as gods went, she was said to be one of the gentler souls, though her warriors were some of the fiercest in that mythology. 

Sam looked up when a wet, towel-clad brother finally made his way out of the shower. “You know, for a dump, the water pressure here ain’t half bad,” Dean told him as he toweled his hair dry. “Plenty of hot water, too. If this place had a complimentary brunch I’d give it four stars.”

“Yeah, well. Two out of three…” Sam replied absently. 

“You want to grab a beer?” Dean asked. “After all that time underground I really don’t want to sit in a hotel and stew in my own juices.”

“I’m good,” Sam replied. “I’m trying to research our girl.”

“Find anything?”

“Tons. That’s the problem. There’s way too much information available, and a lot of it is contradictory; I may never get anything concrete on what Dannie really is.”

“Yeah, well. That’s not the worst news. She’s not terrible, for a monster.”

“No, she isn’t. But she ate people, Dean.”

“She ate bad people. We kill witches all the time; they’re technically human.”

“You still want to giver her that pass?” Sam reaffirmed.

“Yeah, well,” Dean sighed. “Honestly I think we probably should have plugged her when we had the chance. She turns into a freaking wolf the size of a Hummer for god’s sake. But after all she did for us, I just couldn’t do it. She saved both our lives, and got barbequed for her trouble. It didn’t seem right to gank her while she was unconscious.” 

He shrugged. “Wolf girl aside, it was a successful hunt. We got what we came for.”

That they had. The human sacrificing cult they’d been looking for was officially dead. Sam decided to follow his brother’s lead on this one and let it go. He slowly closed his laptop.

“So, beer?” Dean asked.

“I’ll stay in. I’m exhausted,” Sam replied, shaking his head. “I could use an hour or twelve of sleep.”

“Suit yourself.” Dean grinned. “Don’t wait up for me. If the right company crosses my path I may not be back.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Happy hunting, Dean,” he told his brother, falling to his back on the bed. 

“Who needs luck, when you have all this?” Dean countered, gesturing eloquently at his face and upper body, Vanna White style. Sam snorted.

Dean chuckled and left the room. He’d seen a dive bar down the street when they first rolled in. It looked well loved and a little grimy; just his type of place.

The smell of stale beer and too many bodies greeted him when he entered the dim tavern. Waitresses dressed for tips flitted about the light crowd, sloughing beers and the usual bar fare. Dean settled down at the bar, ordering a cheeseburger, extra onions, and whatever draft brew the barkeep felt like pouring. 

After days in the dark, subsiding on nothing and a few sticks of jerky, a nice, greasy dinner sounded pure heaven. A loud noise by the pool table caught his attention and he watched a few Bros exchange words. He watched the body language for a minute; it was all drunken posturing; unlikely anyone would actually throw a punch.

He turned back to find a thin booklet sitting next to his empty plate. It wasn’t actually a book; it was an old comic book. Marvel brand. The beat-up, dog eared little paper back was dated 1989. A yellow sticky a sticky note poked out of the top, serving as placeholder. Curious, Dean flipped to it. 

Tuatha de Danaan; the Wolf people of Muir Island.

Blinking at the illustration of half dressed women frolicking with oversized, happy wolves, he looked up as the sound of glass ware landing in front of him. The bartender, a middle aged, balding guy who had the deliberate movements of an x-soldier grinned at him. 

The man gestured down at the shot of whisky he’d just poured. “From the lady,” he said cocking his head left. Dean looked over where the bartender had pointed. A high round table across the way held a willowy slip of girl with luxuriant cherry chocolate hair and warm almond-brown eyes. Dannie grinned slyly at him, winking. 

“If I were you man, I’d high tail it over there,” the barkeep told him, leaning in conspiratorily. “You won’t be finding a better offer round these parts.”

Dean glanced back at Dannie. She raised her shot glass. Dean echoed the motion, a silent toast before knocking it back. “You’re probably right,” he told the bartender. “Bring us another round of what I just drank, would ya?”

He stood and made his way over, taking the open stool. The wolf-girl looked good; she’d filled out some and looked significantly less sallow.

“Well, you look a hell of a lot better then the last time I saw you,” Dean commented.

“I took your advice, had a few cheeseburgers. After I polished off two deer, five rabbits and a particularly belligerent turkey,” she added. 

Dean raised an eyebrow, absently thanking the waitress who appeared and smoothly slid two shots onto their table. The fiery ‘redhead’ winked at Dannie, flipping her a thumbs up coupled with an approving look at Dean before she retreated back to the bar.

Dannie smiled, clinking her shot against Dean’s before taking it down in fluid swallow.

“You staying around here?” Dean asked.

She flashed him a gamine grin that lit up her whole face. “Well, that depends. You still thinking of putting a bullet in my eye, Hunter?”

Dean smiled back. “Not tonight.”

“Then, yeah. I have a hotel room just down the street. There’s an impressive stain in the corner across from the bed. Looks just like Florida.” She cocked her head at him, waves of long, gently curling hair cascading over her shoulder. She leaned conspiratorily close. “Want to see it?”

Hell, yes. “I would absolutely love that,” Dean replied. He slid his phone out and texted his brother. Scored with a real wild thing. See you tomorrow, little brother.

Dannie went up on her knees on the stool so she could read the message. She chuckled. “Ready to go? Or you want to hang around and shoot pool?”

“Lead the way.” Dean slid some bills on the table and stood, following the girl out of the bar. The meals had done her a ton of good; her slim hips were rounder now, and she moved with a jaunty swish that filled the mind with terrible, wonderous notions.

“You aren’t planning to eat me, are you?” Dean couldn’t help but ask.

Dannie laughed. “Oh, you’ll have to very, very good for that.” 

Dean smiled. “Darlin’ you have no idea.”

\---------

Marvel Comic: Thor # 386, December, 1986  
Tuatha de Danan (Wolf People of Muir Island)


End file.
